Good at Heart
by Nerweniel
Summary: World war two has started and Minerva McGonagall finds herself- and her family- in a highly uncomfortable position...
1. Prologue

Author note:  
Today, sixty years after Auschwitz, to all people who suffered, Jewish, German and otherwise, to all those who died and survived, to all those who remember and to all those who have forgotten.  
And most of all to you, Anne. You know why.

**Good at Heart**

_"I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart."  
_Anne Frank

**Prologue**

1941

"Miss McGonagall, come in."

The grave, baritone voice of an auburn-bearded man ringed through the room- and slowly, tentatively, the heavy door leading to Albus Dumbledore's office was pushed open by a pale, slender hand. The girl who appeared in the door-opening sheer moments later was young, very young- but the look in her eyes wasn't the one of a child anymore. A very peculiar colour they had, those dark green gemstones, glimmering behind a pair of square glasses- but one quality of them was no mystery, and that was their intelligence.

Minerva McGonagall didn't need- had never needed- the shiny Prefect badge fixed on her robes in order to have some authority over her fellow pupils. One blink of her green eyes was enough to make any student- and some teachers- shiver, and yet there was no-one who could deny the obvious fact that Minerva was a beauty after all. Long, black hair pulled back into a thick braid, pale skin smooth and white, nose straight and elegant, only a tiny bit too long. The girl's face was serious, though, as the obvious question marks in her eyes were rewarded by a rather laborious smile of her teacher's.

"Have a seat, my dear." the Transfiguration Professor said, making a rather vague gesture towards one of the unoccupied chairs in the corner of the room- but Minerva did not react.

"Professor, what is wrong? Is it mother- or father? Tosia? Betty? Professor-"

"Sit down, Minerva."

Somehow the piercing look in the bright blue eyes- now clouded with worry- of her teacher's, made the nervous girl obey, and with a small sigh, she lowered herself onto the chair, eyes staring at the older man expectantly. As he came to sit opposite her, though, she lowered her eyes in a mix of respect and discomfort.

"What do you know about the situation in Europe?"

Minerva didn't know what was more confusing- his question or his hand, casually patting her shoulder as if to calm her- totally not succeeding. The forcedly merry expression in his blue eyes did not fool her, though- and seriously she bit her lips.

"Well, I know about Germany, of course- about their leader, that odious Hitler man, and about his and his party's ideas. I know they've attacked- and conquered- more than half of Europe, and- well, of course I think it horrible, for all those poor people in Europe, and in Germany as well, because I heard he has his opponents arrested and killed- and I-"

"Do you know who he considers his "opponents" the most, Minerva?"

Albus's rational question effectively stopped the fifteen-year-old girl's torrent of words- and with a slow nod, she replied.

"Yes. Those who are not of the Aryan race- and most of all- my people."

It was strange, Albus observed, how Minerva- only half Jewish, through her mother's side- had always called the Jews rather than the Scots "her people". And yet that she did, and not because she wasn't proud of her Scottish descent as well. It was a sort of- defensive reaction, almost, and Albus admired the young witch in front of him for it. The way she lifted her chin as she spoke those words- many a braver person wouldn't have done as she did, not in these days, at least.

As he asked her a question about it, she merely smiled and slightly inclined her head.

"Jewish descent goes through the mother, Professor. It's no use hiding it, and nor do I want to."

The fierce light in the young woman's eyes touched Albus, and as if to express what he could not say, he covered her small hand with his own larger one.

"I know, Minerva, and I admire you for it. I would advise you, though, to keep in close contact with your parents. They're muggles, and thus can't defend themselves the way we can. So warn them, my dear. They're always welcome here, if they can come. I don't know if they will or if it would be wise to, but ask them- and warn them."

He couldn't emphasize these words more, and as he bowed over to her, Minerva could literally read the fear in his eyes, and silently she nodded.

"Warn them."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

1943

Minerva McGonagall heard her own footsteps, echoing and echoing through the near-empty corridors of Hogwarts and, with a short shiver and a quick turn of her head, quickened her pace. Her late-evening patrol through the castle- one of her Head Girl duties- was nearly completed, and if she was entirely honest with herself, she knew she was glad because of it. The mere sight of Hogwarts' corridors emptied always somewhat frightened her- she did not know why. Usually, she wasn't really unappreciative of a little loneliness, now and then. Especially at Hogwarts, being alone for a moment was a rare luxury, but even before Hogwarts, when she had still lived in France with her parents, peace and quiet had always proved to be almost an impossibility. With two little sisters- Tosia had been nine when she had left, Elisabet- or Betty- six- and a couple of grandparents, all living together in one house, Minerva had learnt to appreciate being alone as a rarity.

And yet there was one person whose company she preferred to being alone. One person whom she could be alone with- whom she could share moments of thoughts and ponderings with, one person in the entire world who understood.

It was not much, Minerva almost ironically thought, but it was something. Or better- it was someone. Their mutual worries about Minerva's parents had brought Albus Dumbledore and the young girl who was his student even closer together than their many mutual interests and a sense of unusual closeness had ever done during the years before.

As Minerva found herself- the way she did almost every night- knocking on the heavy door leading to her Transfiguration teacher's private quarters, she could not but reflect on the contents of the latest letter her mother had sent her, about three days earlier. Albus- for she'd grown to call him by his first name now- would certainly want to know what was in it, and honestly Minerva had not the faintest idea as for how she would reply to that question. Of course her mother had written that everything was okay- that they were all safe and sound, that there was not the slightest reason for Minerva to be worried, but the girl merely shook her head at those lines.

She knew her relatives too well- and she could read the shadow of the constant threat in every single word her mother wrote. Minerva had heard stories about what was happening in continental Europe- and though every story was vague and without the slightest hint of accuracy, it was not exactly reassuring stories. Even Minerva's mother could not but, from time to time, mention things like how an old acquaintance of hers, whose children had been Minerva's friends when she'd been a little kid, had been arrested and carried away to an unknown destination- or had all of a sudden disappeared, gone into hiding, or run off to Switzerland or England. Or how Minerva'- Roman Catholic- father had done an attempt to have his children scratched off the list of Jews in the community- and had failed horribly.

Minerva had begged her parents, many times, to come back to Scotland, but always had they decided against it. Of course it was very hard for Muggles, Minerva knew, to transport themselves across the carefully guarded Channel, but with a little help- and yet she knew that even that little help was impossible. Her maternal grandmother, namely, was ill and close to her death, thus impossible to transport. It was only logical that Minerva's mother did not want to leave her mother behind, and thus they stayed, hoping that the mixed family would escape the eye of the new government.

It was vain hope, Minerva knew, and many times had she cried over the danger her family lived in- but she knew just as well that she couldn't change it anyway, so she cried- in private.

There was only one man who had ever seen her break, who had ever watched her crack- and that was why she was, this night like all other nights, knocking on his door once more. She loved visiting him, talking to him, playing a fierce game of chess with him- just being with him, for the very simply reason that it was the one place where she did not have to be strong- where she could worry, where she didn't have to cope with the constant pity written across the faces of almost all her fellow students and teachers.

And pity, Minerva reflected, was such a damn empty concept after all.

And yet the look in her teacher's eyes was not an empty one as he looked up from the piece of parchment which he had obviously been reading. It was still filled with pity, but it was not empty.

Minerva stood frozen for multiple seconds, then fled- for fleeing it was- into the opened arms of her Transfiguration teacher- and did not say a word.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

She'd never been this close to anyone but her parents, Minerva realized as she, with a despair she didn't know she held, hid her face in the deep purple robes of her teacher, and that thought only made her cling more to the man in front of her- holding on to him as if never to let go.

Couldn't she- just for once, just for now- forget about the world, couldn't she simply close her eyes and escape from the life of every day, from the life she didn't want to lead, from the life she didn't want to see led by those whom she loved?

And yet with the hollow smile of bravery and the empty blink of courage, Minerva knew that no, she couldn't. There was perhaps an escape possible, but it was not easy and nor was it good- it only seemed like that, just the way she was tricked into believing it by the wicked weakness of that strange structure that formed the human mind.

The arms of her- teacher- around her waist felt nice, though, so she allowed herself that one comfort, leaning her head against his chest as slowly, softly, with shaking lips which almost accidentally seemed to form words, she asked the inevitable question- and half-way decided against it.

"What is-"

And yet she shut up, looking up from the comfortable embrace she had been hiding in, only to find the worst of her fears acknowledged in the now sad, blue eyes of her tutor and friend.

There were tears in her own, emerald ones, she knew, but just for this once, she did not care. Minerva McGonagall never cried in public- barely cried in private, even- but for the first time in her life, the girl with her black hair and her big, fierce eyes, realized a universal truth. Sadness isn't the producing of tears- sadness is simply not caring anymore about spilling them. She did not want to cry, and even, technically, didn't know why she cried. And yet, somehow, she did. She did- she did so damn well that she even didn't know she did.

"What's in that letter you were reading?"

The question was asked almost carelessly, in a vain attempt to keep up the routine of everyday conversations- but Albus recognized it as what it was- for indeed it was nothing more or less than a careful reformulation of the direct, unbearable question she had wanted to ask earlier.

She literally felt him sigh against her ear, and as a gentle, strong hand came to rest on top of her smaller one, carefully leading her towards the couch, she closed her eyes. Did she want- need- to hear this? Did she?

And yet she allowed herself to be led towards the couch by a firm, yet gentle hand, then merely looked up at him as he sat down behind her, taking her hands into his own.

"It's a letter from France."

As if she didn't realize that by now. And part of her really wanted to cover her ears by her hands, to yell and to scream, just to not have to hear the terrible words- but all of a sudden, she was simply frozen, unable to move or say anything- but hear she could all the better, and every word cut straight through her heart.

"It's a letter from your parents' neighbours. They- Minerva, they have been arrested, and so have your siblings. I am so sorry."

His arms around her were all that kept her from fainting right away, a sudden light feeling inside her head proving that no matter how prepared she had been, finally hearing the so long feared words was still worse than anything she could have ever imagined.

As her cheek rested against his and finally, finally tears started to fall, Minerva McGonagall felt her own body shake, and all of a sudden knew that she would need every single ounce of that famous Gryffindor courage that she could muster.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"Albus?"

Minutes had passed, but the quiet embrace of teacher and student, of friend and friend, was not yet broken, and Minerva's head- filled with confused and uncharacteristically shocked thoughts- still leant against his chest. The man had simply held her as she had cried a little- and for the first time in his life, he knew Minerva McGonagall, strong and balanced Minerva, even Minerva was in her way a very fragile creature. And young- very young indeed.

It was so very easy to mistake the girl in his arms for a woman much older than she really was, mature and wise beyond her years as Minerva certainly was- but she raised her head a little, looking into his eyes with a heart-breaking, deep sort of sadness buried in her striking green eyes. Her face was pale as it always was, but different- and the whiter sort of pale of her skin only accentuated the tearstains on her cheeks.

Softly wiping them off with a rough, yet gentle thumb, Albus tenderly shook his head as he looked down on her black-haired head.

"You are terribly young, my- my dear."

The last word had come out somewhat odd, though- and Minerva, always quick to notice things out of the ordinary, slightly narrowed her eyes as she seemed to observe him with care. She seemed to sense that only very nearly had he avoided speaking a certain word out loud- her only problem was that she did not know which word it had been.

A small frown disturbed the peace of the girl's face as she tried to read something she didn't fully understand in his clear blue eyes- and found them all of a sudden illegible.

"I- I do suppose I am."

The sudden confusion in her voice was obvious, as was his hand, gently resting against her cheek in a comforting as well as comfortable gesture.

"Minerva, I cannot express how sorry I am for what- what happened- and-"

His own clumsiness surprised him- and yet in a way, it didn't. During his relatively long life, Albus had comforted and even embraced many people who had lost loved ones- and yet somehow this was different. He had not cared as much for those people as he did for Minerva- in fact…

His own trail of thought shocked him more than he could say, as slowly Albus realized that in fact he had never in his life cared for someone the way he cared for Minerva. There was something about her which never ceased to fascinate him. He couldn't lay a finger on it, but it was there, ever-present in every word she spoke, in every blink of her eyes, in every simple, single gesture she made. He'd never questioned this feeling of his, accepting it as only natural- but all of a sudden, he did question it- and what he found was, to say the least, startling.

Did he love Minerva?

Was this, this feeling he'd had for years, then really Love- also known as what he had chased and despaired about for years, also known as what he'd accepted as impossible to find many, many years earlier?

The next moment, though, Albus didn't know what was bigger- his relief and sudden feeling of tenderness at finally realizing that he loved Minerva, or the sudden fear of his own feelings that was just as present.

She was a student- but perhaps he could have lived with that. Yet moreover, she was a seventeen year old girl who had just lost her parents and siblings to a horrible fate- a girl who was in front of what could be the start of a very complicated time in her life, a girl who'd need every single sort of support she could get- but also a girl who was vulnerable. Too vulnerable.

"Minerva- all I wanted to say was-"

"Y-yes, Professor?"

Her hand was resting atop of his now- thus taking away the last bit of self-control he still possessed. He couldn't pull away now- he couldn't leave her now, sad and lonely, without at least letting her know that there was someone left in this world who- that there was someone who- that-

"Minerva, I- you are not alone in this world. Even apart from your family, there are still people who-"

Her voice was softer than ever before as, nose nearly touching his, she slightly leant forward. He read the emotions- strange emotions, mixed emotions- in her eyes and all of a sudden found himself nothing more than mere water in the palm of her hand.

"What, Albus?"

"Who love you. I love you, Minerva. I'm sorry."

Later on, Albus would wonder many, many times whether it had been he who had initiated their first kiss after all- but deep down he always knew it had been Minerva. The way she had tentatively led her lips onto his- the way she had closed her eyes, as if in a desperate attempt to forget the sadness and remember only the joy, would remain etched against his mind forever.

Her last words were nearly inaudible as their lips parted- and yet to him, they weren't. They would never be.

"I love you too."


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

The sky was dark, save for the occasional little red on-and-off light coming from a muggle war airplane crossing the sky- and Minerva tilted her head back a little, resting it against the stone wall behind her once more. The top of the Astronomy Tower had always been one of her favourite spots at Hogwarts, and visiting it at night was one of the rare abuses of her Head Girl power that she permitted herself. Her natural feeling for what was right and what wasn't opposed to the idea of her sneaking out of her dormitory- but she couldn't help it. Summer was coming closer, and the temperatures at night were, if not warm, then still agreeable- but that was not what made her come here at night.

A sigh escaped her lips as, with a monotone sound, another plane passed above her head, and her black braid curtly shook along with the rest of her head as she tried to think of where it was heading for.

The East- Germany, she knew, and for a short moment, she actually wondered why that idea gave her an uncomfortable feeling, low in her stomach

The next second, though, she remembered it again- and sighed once more at the thought of the stupidity of some of the people surrounding her. Most of her muggleborn classmates really believed that throwing bombs on Germany was the solution- but Minerva only knew too well that it wasn't.

They didn't understand it if she voiced her opinion, though.

"_Minerva, you of all people…"_

But they did not get it.

"_When I see those planes fly over to Germany, I don't think about those leaders, safely hidden in their underground palaces. I think about the little girl in Berlin who perhaps gets a bombshell in her leg on this very moment…"_

Minerva bit her lips and looked up at the stars once more- eyes having adjusted at the darkness, finally able to see more than just the poignant red lights. She'd never really been the one for stargazing, actually, but sometimes, she liked it.

It helped her to think.

And sometimes…

A pair of warm arms enfolding her from behind did not even make her look up again, and a soft smile graced her lips as, leaning back, the back of her head was cradled by what only could be the thick, auburn beard of the man she loved so very much. A pair of lips gently kissing the top of head made her turn around, and almost impulsively she pressed her lips to his, over and over again, as if to never let go. When, moments later, Minerva pulled back again, slightly panting- she still did not say a word. She just leant her hands against Albus's cheeks and then, at his pulling her closer, gladly fell into his embrace once more.

"You're cold, Minerva."

"No, I'm not…" was her muttered, absent-minded reply, but only as he covered her shoulders by his own thick, purple cloak did she realize how comfortable that felt.

"Yes, you are."

"Perhaps- a little."

A faint, impish smile of his made her smile as well, and in silence, the two people sat there, atop of the Astronomy Tower, her head on his shoulder, his head atop of her head. The stars were bright, that night- yet Minerva could not keep her eyes off the seven stars which, to her, seemed to stand out more than the others.

"Ursa Major, my dear; The so-called "Great Bear". Seven stars, quite bright tonight." came Albus's soft answer to her unspoken question, and Minerva sighed.

"Seven… yes, seven. You see that one, that faint one on the left? I bet that's my grandmother. Ill, and old, but ever-present… and that one close to her is granddad- he loves her so much, you know? And then that one is mother- it's bright and somehow seems to watch over the other stars, and next to her is dad, of course. I bet he's winking at me right now. Then there is Tosia- already such a big girl- and the bright one is little Betty. And then that one- that- that must be me, I suppose."

The silence which followed was filled with tension, sadness- and a strange sort of melancholy, too. The expression in Minerva's eyes, Albus realized, came, perhaps, closest to "dumbfounded".

Only moments later, tears started to fall.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Albus held the girl he loved as she cried, caressing her long, raven tresses as she hid her face in his thick, purple robes. He knew very well she did not like to cry in public- and he knew, too, that even he had to consider it as a rare… privilege, almost, to get the right to witness her sadness. Of course he hated to see her unhappy, of course he wanted to watch her smile- but at the same time, he was glad that at least he provided her with someone she could trust. With a shoulder to cry on, even- with someone who would listen.

Months had passed since the horrible news of her family's being arrested had reached Hogwarts, and it with a worried look in his eyes that Albus had witnessed Minerva undergo the massive amount of sympathy both students and teachers had provided her with. She'd accepted it all with a grateful nod and a smile here and there- but Albus had watched it and known that it would pass.

It had passed. Slowly, the student body returned to its usual life, with little and bigger problems, with homework, with gossips- and he had seen the breach between Minerva and the others gradually become wider and wider until, now, in the end, he knew she was fighting herself. It was a fight he knew he couldn't and wouldn't fight for her- and yet that didn't mean that he didn't pity her.

As sadness was replaced by anger, and finally by dissappointment, he just sat there and watched- watched Minerva as she paced, raged, yelled- knowing that every single word she spoke was true and rightful, and yet knowing that no-one would understand it.

"How can they be so ignorant? How can they just sit there and go on and on about copying my homework while- while people are dying, being tortured- starving! How can they not care? How can they gossip about- about nothing, while- oh Albus-"

Here she came to a stop, kneeling right in front of where he sat, and in her big, emerald eyes he read every ounce, every single little bit of that silent, ear-deafening despair he'd known had been hidden inside of her for a very long time.

"How can they be what they are and yet grow up unharmed? I don't want them to be harmed- of course I don't- and yet why is this so unjust? How can they live in such ignorance?"

Albus knew what he had to reply- and he knew that she knew it as well. It was the truth, the inevitable truth- however painful it could be. But he knew she would never regard it as painful, after all- for if there was anything Minerva McGonagall esteemed more than courage, it was truth.

As he, endlessly tender, rested the palms of his hands against her pale, tear-stained cheeks, carefully guiding her head until it rested atop of his purple-clad lap.

"The same way you, Minerva, lived in ignorance before all this started."

As she looked up, he knew that she'd understood his words and even grasped the truth in them. Pulling the young, now shivering, woman closer with one arm, he once more spread his cloak over both their sitting silhouettes. As she, almost reluctantly, cuddled up to him, her muttered words were barely audible, yet painfully honest.

"I- I know… I was- I am- an awful person too-"

"Minerva, that is not true, you know it. You are not awful, they are not awful. If anything, it's human nature that is awful. We were not born to know, see and understand everything right away. We are born not knowing, and we only have a little time to change that- here and there. We're not made to worry about things we don't have to worry about."

As Minerva tilted up her face to him again, Albus knew he'd made the right decision in remarking this. She was intelligent enough to see this as what it was- an information, a comfort, not a reproach, and as softly, only a short moment, her lips locked with his in a short, grateful peck, he smiled as he held her.

"Albus- thank you."

A mere nod of his said more than a thousand words ever could, and as Minerva leant her head on his shoulder, heartbeat slowly returning to normal again, the man knew, on that very moment, as the starlit sky was stained by the bloody red airplane lights, that he'd do everything to protect this woman he loved. Everything.

It was basically that feeling which made him frown as, moments later, the girl looked up to him- eyes soft and begging, yet equipped with that steely stubbornness he knew so very well.

"Albus," she said.

"Will you help me to become an Auror?"


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

For a moment, Albus really didn't know what to say. No matter how well he knew her, no matter how much he'd read her obvious seriousness from her eyes- this was a question he hadn't expected for a single moment. Deep down, his first reflex was to refuse- not because he didn't want to help her with everything and anything, but simply because as she sat there, beautiful and radiant and mature- and yet at the same time, with the moonlight reflecting in her huge, wet green eyes, so terribly vulnerable as well.

Deep down, all he wanted to do was keep her close to him- close to him, where he could watch her and guarantee her safety, so that, despite his incapability to save her people from their undeserved fate, he could at least save this one, wonderful witch whom he loved more than anything in the world from that fate.

And yet, in those very same, vulnerable eyes, he couldn't but see the determination- the strength of her, the strength that her family had, too, and the strength which they most probably needed so desperately at that moment in time. He could read them, see them all, her family members- all pictured together in those big, green eyes of the girl who was, by some twist of fate, chosen among them to be the one to survive.

At that moment, Albus knew he could not say no to her. He could not refuse her his support, no matter how much he feared for her, no matter how strong his urge to protect her was. It wouldn't be fair to her to keep her from doing the only thing she could possibly do to help- not to her, and not to her family.

"I will, Minerva. I most surely will- if you really want to."

It was his love for her that made her add the last five words. If she really wanted to. And deep down- and he was ashamed for those thoughts- he wished she'd refuse- but he knew Minerva McGonagall way too well to ever believe in that possibility.

"I do. It's been my dream ever since this- horrible war started, and now more than ever- ever since… it happened."

The sky was still dark as she turned her gaze towards it again and as Albus, noticing the temperature outside had really dropped by now, gently scooped her up in his arms and started carrying her inside, the young, black-haired woman did not object.

"Care for a cup of hot cocoa?"

Having put Minerva down on the sofa in his living room, Albus handed her said cup- and just for once, she did not object. Pensively drawing meaningless patterns into the dark brown surface of the hot liquor with her spoon, waiting for it to cool down, the young witch looked up at her teacher and friend again, then, faintly, smiled.

"I have been quite a nuisance to you tonight, haven't I, Albus?"

The auburn-haired wizard was quick to assure the girl he loved that no, she was never a nuisance to him- but even quicker was he to gently pull her closer until, finally her head came to a rest against his shoulder and, slowly, he felt her tense muscles relax and her breathing become easier. Tracing silent patterns on Minerva's emerald-clad back with his fingertips, Albus smiled as he watched her eyelids- slowly, gently- drop.

"Everything for you, Minerva." were the last words the Scottish witch heard that night.

"Everything for you."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The next months drifted away quickly for Minerva- and years later, she would remember them as the impatient blur they had indeed been. Finally having found a goal in her life, which she'd always felt as so very useless, Minerva was glad when she could, finally, look forward to something again- and her last months before graduation passed without much things happening.

She studied hard for her NEWTs, though- and the result was amazing indeed. At the graduation ceremony that year, Headmaster Dippet was glad to announce that for the first time since his Deputy Headmaster had graduated from Hogwarts, another student had managed to receive an O on all their NEWTs.

And Minerva was proud- but only because she knew that she could hardly have started Auror training with any less. She was proud of herself, of her achievement, but even stronger than that pride was the bitter knowledge that she no longer had a family to join in that pride. Her classmates' parents were nearly all there at graduation- and though she knew the steel smile she'd pasted on her lips in the morning fooled most of them, Minerva knew only too well that Albus could read the hidden hurt in her eyes. How could he not, after all.

For if there was one thing she'd dreaded her graduation for, it had been the goodbye of her Professor, friend- and lover. She knew that, though they could now, gradually, bring their relationship out in the open, she'd miss being close to him all day. She'd miss the late night chess games, she'd miss stolen kisses between classes- but most of all, perhaps, she'd miss his presence- the knowledge that he was near and that despite everything, there was still something left to survive for.

In a way, Minerva was scared of herself and her own reactions to the relative loneliness she was heading for. Of course she'd not lose him the way she had lost her parents- suddenly and unexpectedly- but still. Most of all, perhaps, she was afraid to give in. Albus had told her about all rumours, no matter how horrid, which he had heard about the Nazi camps her parents now resided in- because she'd asked him to be honest with her. He had done so, and she appreciated it- even though there wasn't a night when she didn't wake up from a nightmare in a ball of sweat, only to see, with the eyes of her mind, the figures of her sisters, her parents, her grandparents, in the darkness of the corners of the room.

He'd told her, too, that she had to stay realistic and that, no matter how much he hoped for them to survive, the chance was very slim indeed.

_BBC mentions gas._

And yet why had she been chosen to survive, then? When she'd been eleven, she'd asked herself the question why she had turned out to be witch, while neither of her sisters looked as if they had so much as one trace of magic flowing through their veins- but never had she imagined that circumstance to have such consequences.

In a way, it was her magic which had saved her- and yet the question "Why?' remained. Why her- why not the others- especially, why not Tosia? Though Minerva was two years her sister's senior, somehow she had always admired the younger girl. Though she'd of course been very young, it had always been obvious that of the three sisters, the middle one was destined to be the beauty- with her, like Minerva's, black hair and her dark, big eyes. Her brains, perhaps, had never been quite as quick as Minerva's- but still she had been a clever young woman, and along with her naïve, intuitive goodness she'd been a perfect little angel indeed.

So perfect that even Minerva thought it hard to be angry with her- to envy her- and it frustrated her. True, Minerva had always had a courage, a determination, unknown to the younger girl- but still. The two girls had had their arguments- and somehow, Minerva felt they had mostly been her fault.

And that, the girl breathed, leaning her head on her hands, one night, wasn't a pleasant realization at all.

In her dreams, she always saw the same image. And though she didn't miss her other family members any less, it was always Tosia. Dirty and thin, huge eyes begging and silently, silently asking Minerva that one, accusing question.

_Minerva, Minerva, why have you left me alone?_

And the young witch knew it was unfair to herself to torture her own mind with these visions- but she could stop neither them, nor the questions they provoked and kept on provoking.

_Tosia, Tosia, I have never left you._


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

**To my dearly beloved sister, Meredith, who, despite not exactly wanting to read my angstfics, still rocks ;). As you see, you do get a bit of fluff :p.**

Minerva McGonagall heard her own heels clacking against the uneven pavement, and with a suppressed, sleepy yawn, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she, briskly, walked on.

It was five in the morning, and the new Auror-in-Training of the Ministry of Magic felt slightly guilty about not having gone to sleep at a decent time the previous night- but then again, she inwardly defended herself with a smirk on her lips, at least she _had _gone to bed early. The only problem, which wasn't really a problem, was; so had Albus.

She smirked again, then pulled her long, tartan cloak just a little tighter around her thin shoulders, then walked on.

Granted, five o'clock was a rather bizarre time to start the first day of her three years of Auror training- but then again, these were bizarre times to start training, too. Minerva didn't really care, anyway- all she wanted, had always wanted, ever since her family had disappeared, was to fight for her people- and getting up at half past four was really the least of sacrifices, in that case.

Albus had not objected to her enrolling, in the end- not that he had expected him to. He knew her well enough, after all, to realize that, young as she was, she was a _very_ free woman indeed, and as much as she loved him, she was not willing to let that freedom of choice go. He wanted to keep her safe, true- but just as well did he know that he could not keep the possibility to fight from her.

They hadn't bothered to keep their relationship a secret after her graduation, even though they hadn't exactly yelled it from the rooftops either. He was old enough to be her grandfather, after all- and especially Albus was painfully aware of the negative reactions that could possibly follow. Their closest friends knew, though- and were happy for the couple, too, because quite frankly, Minerva thought with a smile, Albus and her were made for each other- and they knew it.

Headmaster Dippet, one of her lover's closest friends, had been one of the first to actually rejoice in the match- a wise old Ravenclaw, the Headmaster was open-minded enough to see how happy they were, and he had given Albus permission to share his rooms in Hogwarts with Minerva- as long as she managed not to be seen by any of the students. Her Animagus form- which she had acquired through very intensive training throughout the summer- did come in handy, there, and so far, they had managed quite well.

And now here she stood- in front of her future.

Taking a very deep breath, Minerva nodded. This was what she wanted- and this was what she would do. She was sure.

And even Albus, she added with a soft smile, even Albus…

"_You know what, Minerva?" the auburn-haired wizard muttered, as he traced the features of the young woman in his arms with a tentative finger._

_Said witch, black, thick hairs all spread out over the bed sheets, merely, lazily smiled, taking her hand in his and gently kissing it._

"_Mmhm?"_

"_You would make a wonderful Auror, after all."_

_Minerva smiled- then mockingly frowned and lightly gave the man a pat on the chest, green eyes looking genuinely surprised. Though he had agreed with her decision in the end, he still didn't feel too happy with it, she knew- and this sudden remark surprised her._

_It was with an impish smile that he explained- and the young woman rolled her eyes with a grin._

"_I know first hand what happens when good tabbies go bad…"_

_As he started nuzzling her neck, Minerva contentedly sighed- yet at the same time shook her head and grinned._

"_I'd only get this bad with you, Albus Dumbledore… you deserve it…"_

_As he gently kissed her lips again, she felt the warmth inside of her chest grow- and knew he'd recognized it as what it was._

_A compliment._


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

1945

"No, Albus Dumbledore, I will _not_ let you go on your own!"

The young witch crossed her arms, green eyes shooting more fire than ever- and as she moved to stand in the door-opening, blocking Albus's way, the auburn-haired wizard nearly grinned, playing with his wand, a semi-serious look on his face.

"Minerva, dear, you do realize that I can move you away from that door with one tiny swish of this thing over here, right?"

"Oh that youcan all right- only you won't."

Hands on hips, the black-haired woman linked eyes with the man now standing in front of her- and just for a moment, it looked as if he really was going to shove her aside- be it with his wand or physically- but then, green eyes triumphed over blue ones, and the wizard lowered his wand with a sigh.

"You're right. I won't. But Minerva- you have to understand…"

"What do I have to understand, Albus? That you are going to fight my battle, mine, and that you are leaving me behind? That even after two years of Auror Training, you are incapable of seeing me as a full person-"

"My dear, you still aren't a qualified Auror-"

Albus rested a calming hand on the young woman's shoulder- but Minerva shrugged it off, and went on, angrier than ever.

"As if that matters to you! As if that matters only the tiniest little bit to you- as if that would convince you to see me as a person, and not as some weak little sick plant you have the oh so _noble_ urge to protect! But you can't protect me, Albus! You can't keep me locked up forever and hope that nothing happens to me that way! I'm coming with you, Albus Dumbledore- get used to the idea already!"

There was, once more, a moment of pressure that made the silence in the room go surprisingly heavy, as blue eyes, again, linked with green ones- and only seconds later, one of the two pairs of eyes were lowered.

It was the blue set.

Could he really keep her from doing this, after all? Could he, Albus Dumbledore- could he keep a girl who was technically an adult woman and who had every right to fight that which had destroyed her family, from fighting her own battles?

Could he stop her from coming along with him- merely with the excuse that she was not yet a qualified Auror- while masses of young, unqualified, incapable boys had already given their lives for the cause she so dearly wanted to fight for?

No, he couldn't.

Yet it was in remarkably short sentences that he spoke up, a mere second later- and with a sigh.

"Alright, pack your things. I don't know where we're going. It's a ministry secret. We leave in five minutes."

As Minerva left the room to go pack, it was only the slightest twitch of lips that gave away that inwardly, she was smirking.

She'd won this battle.

She would win the next one, too.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

"ALBUS!"

For a moment, the world froze- and the young woman, knuckles of her right hand white and tense around her wand, turned her head, as if in slow motion, towards the spot where the man in question stood.

Two months had passed, and Minerva, though a little paler and a little thinner, had survived them without any harm. True, there had been the occasional cuts and wounds, or spells gone wrong- but the dark green gleam in her eyes was still undefeated, and the Auror-in-Training badge on her chest still unbroken.

"It's- okay, Minerva, I'm alright."

It was true. A quick counter spell had prevented the auburn-haired wizard from a rather nasty curse coming his way- but only just. Still it was his small group which gained a small victory on that day- and so it was with a tired smile on his face that, later that night, the man stretched his back with a yawn, sitting in front of the tent Minerva and he had shared during the past weeks.

"We're getting closer, Min. Every day- a little. They can't possibly keep this up- the Muggles are well on their way towards defeating Hitler too, did you know that? Winston sent an owl last night."

The twinkle in his eyes was optimistic- but Minerva was not fooled.

"Thank God the Muggles have a Minister _without_ a manic fear for everything bird-like, for once. Makes things a whole lot easier." was her sole, dry reply- and the auburn-haired wizard frowned.

"Minerva, what's wrong?"

The young witch nearly smiled as she, tenderly, rested a hand against the man's cheek. He really did know her too well- she had not wanted to bother him with her thoughts- and yet somewhere, she knew she had to tell him. Him, of all people.

"I- I don't know- it's just-"

Albus observed the black-haired woman as she frowned, then relaxed- then frowned again, and finally, she exploded.

"Why are we here, trying to get rid of Grindelwald instead of- Albus, shouldn't we be liberating the camps? You don't know- you can't know- who knows how many men and women- how many _children_ die every day we linger here? They're dying, Albus, I feel it in my blood, in my heartbeat. They're dying and here we sit- doing nothing."

The accusation in her last words was as obvious as it was unrighteous- and Minerva herself was the first one to realize that- but not to lower her eyes, as blue eyes bored into green ones, a split second later.

"Minerva, you know that that isn't true."

His voice was soft- and hurt- but suddenly, a gush of anger low in her stomach made that she didn't care anymore- and Minerva McGonagall, more than ever a daughter of the people who'd been subjected to repression for millennia, and who had survived, rose to her full height- which was, the way it always was, a tallness that once more surprised Albus.

"Oh isn't it, Albus? Oh isn't it? Is your family dying? Are your people being killed with gas and with I don't know what, merely because- well, I don't even know why! Are your parents, are your grandparents and sisters being tortured at this very moment? Answer me, Albus! Are they?"

The man merely moved his head- and with near imperceptible nod, he answered

"No, they are not. Both my parents were murdered back in 1940 by followers of Grindelwald, as well as the greater part of my extended family. Goodnight, Minerva."

As the fabric of the tent fell back behind his back and hid him from his sight, Minerva's mouth closed.

She couldn't remember having felt this bad ever before.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

_To Oma._

Minerva slept outside the small tent, that night. Winter had started sliding into spring months earlier, and the protection of her thick cloak, along with a quickly cast warming spell, managed to keep the young woman relatively comfortable through the night- perhaps, in different circumstances, it could even have permitted her to sleep, but that was a wish in vain, as she knew very well.

There was nothing left for her but to toss and turn under the tartan fabric she'd covered her restless form with- nothing left for her than to stare at the sky above, at the trees surrounding the tent- and at the tent itself, where he slept, or didn't sleep, with her words still locked inside of his mind.

Her words- her horrible words.

It was with a firm hand that Minerva McGonagall wiped off the tears on her cheeks. Crying would not do- not now, not over this. This was her fault, not the world's, not his- hers, and responsibility did not come with tears- at least not for her. With regrets, yes- but never with tears.

It was strange, she pondered, how she, who had never believed that complaining had any use whatsoever, had suddenly, very unexpectedly, even to herself, thrown it all in his face like that- especially because the concept "complaining" was still as repulsive to her as ever before.

_But those who do not complain are never pitied._

She snorted. Now had she honestly ever wanted pity? Would she be happier if the world treated her like a porcelain doll- as if she was made of chocolate, as if she could melt any moment?

Now Minerva could honestly answer "no" to that question- and she felt deeply, truly ashamed when she remembered how his blue eyes had looked at her. Despite everything they had lived through together, somewhere deep down, hidden deeply in the steady blue, had always been that twinkle, that… that joie de vivre that had pulled her through so many difficult times.

Now, for the very first time, that twinkle had been entirely absent- and there had only been emptiness- a sort of… broken quantity that even Minerva could not really place. And for this, she could not blame the world- or the war.

Minerva cried, that night, her face hidden deep in the folds of her cloak. It was a near symbolic deed, that- for no-one would have been there to see it anyway, and that was exactly the way she wanted it to be. Hidden, shameful- for in her thoughts, she could see her mother, always the sterner of her two parents, frowning down upon her- and her dad having that disappointed look in his eyes that he had had when she, at three, had stolen a cookie from her grandmother's box.

Sure, her parents would want her to find them, to save them- but they would not want her to sacrifice everything they had taught her in the process. She was sure of that.

The next morning, it was with heavy circles under her reddened eyes that Minerva threw off her cloak and started the fire to cook breakfast on. It was usually Albus who did this- but she did not have the heart to wait.

Only as she, in a silent gesture of sincere apology, brought him his scrambled eggs inside the tent, moments later- and as he, still without a word, pressed a kiss against her forehead, Minerva McGonagall knew she was forgiven.

On that sleepless night, the young witch learnt something she would never forget.


End file.
